


English Hospitality

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: Phryne Fisher wallops a Nazi in an English country home.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peradi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peradi/gifts).



> Radi asked me for Phryne Fisher kicking a Nazi in the balls. Somehow, by the time I had started writing, this became 'Phryne smacks Unity Mitford briskly around the head'. I can only attribute this to the facts that I couldn't get Phryne into Nazi Germany without writing a novel, and that in everything I've read about Unity, she has been my second-least-favourite Mitford sister (second only to Diana). I can't help but pity Unity, but she was a real live Nazi. Many members of her family subscribed to that peculiarly upper-class British form of fascism, but Unity was the real thing. Plus a close friend and girlfriend of Hitler's. Unfortunately, Phryne's hope for her will not come true: she shot herself in 1939, not long after the outbreak of war between Britain and Germany, and died a few years later from complications.
> 
> This is a somewhat shallow portrayal of a complex woman with a sad story, not aided by the fact that it's been a very long time since I read Hons and Rebels, the Mitford sisters' letters, or anything else relevant. Hence the Historical Inaccuracy tag. Think of this as the equivalent of one of the men from Generation Kill: Stark Sands' portrayal is not Nate Fick, and vice versa.
> 
> No, I don't know why she burst into Jack's bedroom, either.

            “I thought,” Jack said, trying to maintain dignity while clutching an inadequate towel around his hips, “you didn’t have any more… disreputable… relatives?”

 

            “Ha,” Phryne said in disgust, shaking the blonde gently and then turning her over onto her front; she had a lovely, slightly doughy, face, perfect makeup, and rather staring blue eyes.  They were currently closed, since Phryne had just hit her very hard with a long-handled loofah and caused her to flail, stumble and fall over the ewer in its stand, knocking her head on the wardrobe. Phryne took her pulse, which was slow and steady. “Well, she seems fine. No, I’m not related to this one, Jack.”

 

            “Small mercies,” Jack said, retiring behind a motheaten four-poster and reaching for his trousers. “And to think I thought that the greatest perils held by the mother country involved, oh… pulling your father from gambling dens and dancing with you at illicit jazz clubs.”

 

            Phryne huffed. The Baron had been uncharacteristically well-behaved throughout their trip, but hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to take Jack to his new favourite gambling spot, where he had been caught counting cards: Jack had been obliged to cover his hypothetical father-in-law’s retreat. As for the illicit jazz club – Phryne would never again take a recommendation from her cousin Rosamonde. She preferred clubs that were competently run, and consequently were not raided by the police. Jack had had to flourish his badge quite pointedly to get them out.

 

            All things considered, Phryne felt it was her turn to rescue Jack. But not, perhaps, from Unity Mitford.

 

            “That girl has mothballs for brains,” she complained, tilting the young woman’s head back so she couldn’t choke. “What on earth did she want?”

 

            “You can hardly expect me to know,” Jack said, with his usual stern almost-primness, from behind the four-poster’s curtain. “She just came bursting in.”

 

            “I’m aware.” Phryne stood up, and tied her silken dressing-gown a little more firmly. “She certainly wasn’t expecting to find me, though I thought the Mitford girls were… fairly modern.” She cast her eyes up to the sky and pursed her lips, tilting her head. “One way or another.”

 

            Jack emerged, wearing his trousers and undershirt, and buttoning his shirt. His hair was still wet and falling into his face. “Well, between the Hitlerite, the red-ragger, the adulteress, the novelist –”

 

            “Oh _hush_ , Jack.” Phryne tucked her hair behind one ear and mock-glared at him. “As Lord Redesdale most unfortunately pointed out to my mother over breakfast, those who live in glass houses…”

 

            “I should have thought a lady detective was eminently respectable,” Jack said blandly, the only sign of his amusement a curl at one side of his wide mouth and a faint quirk of one eyebrow.

 

            “You know you don’t think any such thing.” Phryne prodded Unity Mitford, who was beginning to groan and stir. “Now, I expect we’d better stay here until Miss Unity comes round, but frankly, Jack, I think I may discover a sudden urge to visit the Highlands tomorrow if the Mitfords continue to be this… intolerable.”

 

            “I thought you liked at least one of them.” Jack was now knotting his tie - and doing an abominable job of it, in Phryne’s opinion.

 

            “I do,” Phryne said. “But really I don’t know Jessica very well, and if pursuing the acquaintance with her means socialising with the rest of them – _no_!”

 

            “I can’t say I disagree.” Jack finished with his tie and reached for his jacket. “Are you planning to go to dinner in that dressing gown?”

 

            “No, but I’d give a lot to see my mother’s face if I did.” Phryne sighed. “Only I really must wait for this extremely tiresome young woman to come round.” She bent down and stared fixedly into Unity’s face. She suspected the girl was faking unconsciousness now; there was a tension to her that there hadn’t been before.

 

            Phryne narrowed her eyes, and wondered whether she was interested enough in whatever scheme Unity Mitford was cooking up to stay in this dreadful, draughty house for longer than necessary to persuade Jessica that she would find more scope for her talents in Australia. Probably not.

 

            “Phryne?”

 

            “Yes?”

 

            “Do you think we could go…” Jack sighed, combing his hair into submission. “Next time. Can we go somewhere warmer?”

 

            Phryne let out a peal of laughter. “You mean somewhere with towels you can’t see through, reliable hot water, and fewer draughts? I thought policemen were supposed to be tough, Jack.”

 

            “I’m a middle-aged man, Miss Fisher.” That sneaking grin was back at the corner of Jack’s mouth. “I like my creature comforts.”

 

            Phryne sparkled at him. “And I like to be properly dressed for dinner. Will you just pop across the corridor and fetch my dress? I’ll watch Miss Unity.”

 

            Jack left, and Phryne immediately crouched down.

 

            “Unity Mitford,” she said, quietly but distinctly. “I think you’re a silly, unpleasant, nasty young woman, and I don’t care to associate with you.”

 

            Unity’s eyelids flickered.

 

            “It is my devout hope,” Phryne continued, “that you will grow out of your silliness and your cruelty.” She glared, in the hope that Unity was watching between those long eyelashes. “But if you continue to interfere with Jack Robinson, you won’t live to do so, is that clearly understood?”

 

            Unity’s eyelids flickered again.

 

            “When he comes back,” Phryne finished, “you will have left.” She paused. “If you feel a headache coming on, see a doctor. Tell him you tripped and fell.”

 

            She stood up, and wandered over to the other side of the room, adjusting her hair and inspecting herself in the mirror. From that angle she couldn’t see what Unity was doing; she heard the scuffle of her getting up, the click of the closing door, and that sufficed.

 

            Phryne smiled grimly.

 

            Jack reappeared moments later, carrying an armful of royal blue silk, and a matching pair of court shoes. “I brought – where did that woman go?”

 

            “Somewhere else,” Phryne said with satisfaction, and turned a glittering smile on Jack. “ _Thank_ you.” She slipped off her dressing gown.

 

            But Jack had known her too long to buy it, and he arched his eyebrows at her as she dressed. “Phryne, you can’t possibly be _jealous_.”

 

            He sounded like he knew it, sure and easy and warm, and Phryne’s smile softened.

 

            “Of a girl like Unity Mitford? Certainly not.” She touched Jack’s cheek gently, and leant up for a kiss. “But I never like it when people try to hurt you, Jack.”

 

            When they went down for dinner, Jack still had her raspberry-red lipstick smudged under his ear.


End file.
